


Not Yet.

by fiveroundsrapid



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F, tag on after 'its only love if it hurts'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 22:31:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveroundsrapid/pseuds/fiveroundsrapid
Summary: Instead, there is just a tether; an unbreakable bond holding them together. The unspoken thought of: not yet.Aka tag-on scene where Serena goes away for her sabbatical.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Because we were all broken by that episode and it hurt and I couldn't sleep without writing this darn it.

Bernie takes her to the train station. It makes practical sense, of course. Serena's not coming back any time soon and Bernie wants to make sure she's safe. Besides, she's got a shift in an hour. Okay, two hours. And the train station is on the way to the hospital anyway, just a short diversion. It'd be easy for Bernie to drop her off. Except none of the practical reasons enter either women's minds. Instead, there is just a tether; an unbreakable bond holding them together. The unspoken thought of: _not yet._

Jason's at Allens now. Bernie helped him move. Serena will call him every other day, at 6pm precisely. She hasn't said anything like that to Bernie. They both stick to the practical. The bookings, the packing, the suitcase for one. Bernie holds her close in bed, whenever she can, and misses her on the ward. What will it be like when she's gone? Not just from the ward, but from Albie's, from drinks, from Italian restaurants and Fletchling outings? What will it be like when Bernie rolls over and clutches air? 

They're at the mouth of the car park, waiting for the light to turn red so she can pull in. The light is amber. She shifts the gear stick and drives in, her hand still on the gear stick. The whole ride had been silence. Time paused, waiting for a movement to start back up again. It happens; Bernie feels a hand on her own. Looks down, briefly, to see Serena's hand atop hers. She smiles a little and turns her hand over so they interlink their fingers. The unspoken thought of: _not yet._

Serena has decided to go to Paris. For the first two weeks anyway. She doesn't really know after that. But Paris was safety, Paris was a city she knew, a city that knew her grief-stricken heart and how to stroke it, mend it. It had done with her mother. Even if it doesn't help with losing Elinor... it's a start, isn't it? It's the only thing she can think of. Serena needed to start somewhere, to find herself again. That was the plan. To know who she was, now that she was no longer the mother of Elinor Campbell. 

They pull into a parking space. It's near the entrance. Not too far. They move away, but strain, holding back against the last touch of fingertips, before the limbs drop back into place and the car doors open. The two women get out, get Serena's bag out. Make sure she's got her ticket for London, and then her one for the Eurostar. Has she got her hotel bookings? Yes, that's all arranged. Bernie's got the spare key, for the plants? It's on her keyring. No turning back now.   
It's only a small platform; Holby doesn't need much, just a few platforms, a coach station, a ring of taxis waiting for their latest fare. Holby is only a destination for a few. A stop for most. Bernie secretly hopes it will one day become Serena's destination once again. They hold hands all the way onto the platform. Bernie is allowed; train tickets are checked on board, and so she can stand outside, waiting with Serena, till a dull voice announces the train.

Serena just looks calm. A soul ready to pass into the next life. A woman ready to be healed, and take the next step. Bernie is proud of her; squeezes her hand to say so, silently. Serena's rouge lips give her a sad smile. She knows what Bernie is thinking. Both women know this has to happen, they both even want it to happen. But still... the unspoken thought of: _not yet._

But the train is pulling up, the passengers ready themselves. They let go ofone another, to turn and face their partner. Whiskey eyes meet chocolate. All eyes glassy, but no tears fall. They are far too British. 

"This is me." Serena says, forced jovility in her voice. Bernie smiles at it anyway.

"It would seem so." Both are rational. Neither expect a move-ending goodbye. But they know that it's not so insignificant for it just to be a quick word and then end. Bernie moves first, pulling Serena into a hug. Serena lets go of the pull out handle of her wheely case, sinks into the hug. Melts. Her face buried in the crook of Bernie's neck, they stand like that. A faint breeze knocks a stray blonde curl to tickle against Serena's nose. 

Then they kiss. It's instinct. It's also soft, full of every emotion they can pour into it. Closed mouth, shy pressure, they know each other well by now that it can be described as nothing else but as home. The train has now stopped. Serena knows that soon they will be parted. But she takes this moment, as they draw apart, to rest her forehead against Bernie's, with their noses faintly touching. She nuzzles, slightly, a breathy eskimo kiss. 

"I wanted you to have something." Bernie pulls away, her hand going into her satchel. Serena looks at her in curiousity, noting the way Bernie's brow furrows as she searches her bag. The way her hair falls across her face. They've been lucky- the faint breeze is accompanied by sunlight. The promise of spring in the future. "When I- when I was on tour..." Serena waits as Bernie rummages. She quirks a single brow, knowing that Bernie is as bad as organising her handbag as she is at her desk. Bernie finds it, draws it into her hand, encloses her fingers around it. Serena is now very curious, but it doesn't show, even as the other passengers go by, ready to get on the train. She's got bloody reservations, it can wait. "I had a photo. Of Cam, and Charlotte." Bernie is now nervous, her eyes not making contact with Serena. She's vulnerable. "I used to take it with me. I've still got it. It's a bit torn, a bit frayed at the edges." Serena knows all this. It's stored in Bernie's purse. She's seen Bernie look at it when on the phone to Cameron in London. "It made me think of what I was coming home to." Bernie know meets Serena's gaze. It's steady and it's strong and full of love. "So I had this printed." 

She hands over her gift. Serena's breath stops in her throat.

"Not much, I know b-" Bernie's words die in her throat. Unable to continue, she watches Serena's reaction. Serena has her hand to her mouth, fingers splayed. Her mouth is ope nas she stares down at the photograph Bernie has handed her. It was Jason, smiling, one arm around Serena and another around Bernie. All grinning up at her. It had been taken some night at Albies. They've caught Bernie mid laugh and Serena is looking at her like the sun. It's free and its unposed and happy. Serena loves it.  
She looks up at Bernie, eyes shining at her now shy trauma surgeon.

"Thank you." Serena tells her, touched by the gift.

"I just wanted to give you something... a reminder... of- of what you've got waiting back at home for you." Bernie looks up at her. They are calling for passengers to get on the train now. Serena needs to be strong. She needs this. In a roundabout way, they both do. Bernie has been through the mill as well, she's drained fromcaring. They will come together again, Serena hopes, better and stronger and still with the same unspoken thought between them: _not yet._

"Goodbye, Bernie." Serena attempted. She turns to leave.

"Please..." Bernie catches her hand. Serena looks back "-let it be au revouir."

"Of course it is. Of _course_ it is." They kiss again; urgent, peppered kisses until they can bear to be parted, and Serena gathers her luggage and boards. Bernie watches her go, tucks a curl behind her ears, eyes dark and sad. She's about to head out, doesn't think that she can bear to watch the train actually leave, when she finds Serena back in the entrance way of the train carriage, at the open door. 

"Bernie!" Bernie turns back, sees Serena. She's detirmined and fiery and everything Bernie adores. She's grinning from ear to ear; an adreniline release, a cathartic process of somekind has occured. Bernie asks silently what she is on about with a small shake of her head. "I never said it back!" 

"What?"

"I never said it back to you." Serena continued, her hands holding onto the door frame. As Bernie stared at her in bemused confusion. "And I want you to know... I love you." Serena told her, her face splitting into an ecstatic smile, happy to admit it, happy to allow herself, and happy that she knew the woman she loved loved her back. But the guard was shutting the doors, and Serena had to go. She gave a quick wave, a blush and hurried to find her seat. The door shut automatically.

"I love you too. So much." Bernie said, her voice barely audible as the train clattered away, taking her love with her. She took out her purse, opened it up. There it was. Faded now, and very much out of date with two smiling dark haired children. There was a bent seam at the edge, a puckered white line across Cam's torso from the times she's had to stuff it in her fatigues as another trauma came in. 

Bernie's eyes went to the right, to the other place. It was meant to be a card. For a long time, the plastic window had held her organ donor card. Now it didn't. Now was a photograph of Serena. Bernie placed her fingertips to the photograph. She shook her head back, closed her eyes and then closed the purse, putting it away. She rallied herself. 

And then she left the station.

Her phone buzzed: _Call me tonight? - Sx_

Bernie grinned: _Of course. Let me know when you get to your hotel. - Bx_

Another text: _I love you. - Sx_

Bernie wrote back fast: _And I you. - Bx_


End file.
